I Like It Rough
by BipolarMolar
Summary: 5 Times It Wasn't Stendan- and one time it was! VERY slashy 1shots pairing Brendan and Ste with other people- or each other! Some will be canon, some will not, but ALL will be rough,passionate and inspired by song lyrics. Please read and review if you like it! Pairings include Brendan/Eoghan,Brendan/ Doug,Brendan/Joel,Ste/Doug, and Ste/Brendan.Arguably dubcon.
1. Brendan VS Eoghan

**Title: Whip In My Valise (and other stories)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Hollyoaks, or the lyrics mentioned.**

**Author: BipolarMolar**

**This fic will be six chapters probably, I just wanted to take the opportunity to write a few short, slashy one-shots for different parings, a pairing a chapter. The final chapter will be Stendan, hope I can do it well! **

**This chapter is Brendan Brady/ Eoghan Nolan( give it a chance, Alan Turkington is fiiiine and Eoghan is awesome- a smart, sexy Irish dude and man enough to stand up to Brendan Brady. For people who don't know, Eoghan( pronounced Owen) Nolan is Lynsey Nolan's brother, he came to Hollyoaks for her funeral. It became clear that he and Cheryl had slept together and were quite close, but what she didn't know is that he had held a flame for Brendan when they were young, and tried to kiss him but Brendan had rejected him. In the episode of the funeral, after arguing, Brendan and Eoghan kissed and made out on the sofa, and then Cheryl and Ste walked in and saw. Later we saw Brendan waking up in his bed and Eoghan standing around in his boxers, so… they had sex. This chapter is exploring that.**

**I was thinking about the song Whip In My Valise and the lyrics seemed to fit this- when Eoghan Nolan said to Brendan how they had been young (sixteen) and Brendan had bullied Eoghan, and made him hate himself. Enjoy and please review to let me know if you liked it! Future pairings could include- Stug, Bralker (because you have to write what you love) and maybe even Stendan- if I think I can do it justice! I'm pretty sure this is the first ever Brendan/ Eoghan slash piece, but I could be wrong. _Please_ please let me know what you think!**

**0o0o0o**

"_**When I met you, you were just sixteen**_

_**Pulling the wings off flies**_

_**When an old lady got hit by a truck**_

_**I saw the wicked gleam in your eyes**_

_**Your sadistic suits my masochistic**_

_**There's a whip in my valise**_

_**Oh yeah**_

_**Who taught you torture**_

_**Who taught you?**_

_**Whip In My Valise, Adam And The Ants.**_

**0o0o0o**

When Brendan had told Eoghan he could take "one shot" to hit the man, finally hurt the man, the bully, his cowardly tormentor, his hands had curled into fists, preparing. For. Attack.

But he couldn't, he just couldn't because staring into those sultry blue eyes, heavy-lidded and thickly-lashed, they drew him in as they had all those years ago, before hate and fear had got in the way, before they'd grown into men. It was too easy to dart forward, pulling Brendan close for a kiss. His heart had skipped a beat when Brendan had responded eagerly, looping his arms around Eoghan's back and waist, holding on tightly.

Eoghan knew it had to be the grief, seeing his beautiful sister Lynsey's final departure that had made him crave this, hot desperate contact with lips/skin/teeth/tongue…

But that didn't explain why it felt so good, so right that it was Brendan, Brendan Brady who was now throwing him down onto the sofa, leaving Eoghan to stare hungrily up at him as Brendan threw off his suit jacket in one decisive move.

Brendan climbed onto the sofa with surprising grace, his long legs bent awkwardly so as not to put his full weight on the other man. Looming over Eoghan, his lips found his, forcefully mashing his mouth against Eoghan's until the flesh was swollen and red.

_I can't believe this is happening_, Eoghan thought dreamily as his lips battled under Brendan's ( a losing battle), trying to keep grounded, trying not to lose his head under the merciless onslaught of Brendan's bruising lips, his thrusting tongue. He'd prided himself on no longer being that troubled teen, haunted by Brendan's mesmerising gaze and heavy hand. It had taken years to become the man that Eoghan was today, no longer ashamed, or afraid, so it wasn't a case of bowing down to Brendan, spreading his legs wide for him. Eoghan knew he couldn't completely to Brendan; he had to give as good as he got or risk losing face to him. So as his lips were massaged by Brendan's, stubble harshly scaring against his jaw and cheekbones, he gave it his all, his enthusiasm, years of lust and longing, loathing and self-loathing guiing his frantic lips, until Brendan was gasping for breath and tearing at Eoghan's shirt. Brendan's patience had deserted him, strong hands forcing the buttons open and parting the sides of his crisp white shirt eagerly to reveal his chest.

Eoghan could only suck in breaths as Brendan kissed his way up his chest, apparently liking his lips too much to want to stray from them. Eoghan was lost in the kiss so when a loud bang echoed through the room, he didn't immediately react to ti, still consumed by Brendan's kisses. But Brendan, still perched awkwardly over him, tore his mouth from Eoghan's, staring in horror at the door. Eoghan followed his gaze, feeling an icy dread as Cheryl's shocked face branded itself in his mind. She'd clearly just come in with –what was his name- Ste? - and seen him…with Brendan. The look of betrayal on Cheryl's face was heart-breaking, the look of sadness mingled with longing on Ste's face annoying, but Eoghan couldn't ignore the way his erection throbbed in his trousers, or the way his chest was heaving with hasty breaths, aroused but embarrassed. As it was, Cheryl and Ste didn't stay long, the quickly left, leaving Eoghan and Brendan-

Alone.

A silence had settled on the two men, both had been caught in flagrante delicto by old flames- at the same time! It was the sort of thing that would happen on a soap opera, Eoghan thought miserably, not in real life. His gaze was fixed on the sofa, unable to meet Brendan's eyes, but when he regained the courage to look up; Brendan's eyes were still dark with lust although now there was sorrow in them too. He let Brendan claim his mouth again

Their movements were hurried and desperate now, fumbling and groping gracelessly- both staggered up the stairs to Brendan's bedroom, still mindlessly clutching hold of each other and Brendan slammed the door shut behind them, throwing Eoghan down onto the bed with a force that held anger. All Eoghan knew as his back hit the mattress was that he and Brendan were wearing too many clothes. And that had to change. Now. He tossed his shirt away and began working on his trousers, as Brendan did the same, the dark-haired man panting. So focused was he on undressing, that Eoghan didn't even notice Brendan was now naked until he himself was fully unclothed too. Eoghan looked up and his eyes widened. He'd never thought he'd see Brendan naked.

He was gorgeous.

The body he'd desired, dreamt about was now bare, revealed for his perusal, for his pleasure. His eyes travelled greedily over the harsh tattoos and thick dark chest hair, down to his cock, flushed red with arousal and hard. For him. He licked his lips in anticipation, already desperate for it, for Brendan to claim him.

Brendan was under no such romantic allusions, his impatience was visible in the vein throbbing in his temple, the tightness of his jaw and the hard breaths he was sucking in, as he clambered onto the bed, staring hungrily down, the heat of his gaze making Eoghan flush.

Eoghan was down to his boxers now, but looking up into innate masculinity and the untamed beauty that was Brendan Brady, he couldn't help but feel inadequate. Brendan wasn't taking no for an answer though; with a sound of satisfaction, he pawed at Eoghan's boxer shorts, pulling them down his body and throwing them carelessly away. Now that Eoghan was naked for him, his heart was racing, he still could hardly dare to believe that this was happening. Despite the depth of his desire, he still felt the itching shame that Brendan had unleashed on him all those years ago, through his initial rejection. Part of him wanted to languidly lie; legs spread wide, welcoming Brendan to look and touch, to own him in any way, but he still couldn't quite forget the way Brendan had made him feel.

Brendan wasn't giving him the benefit of having second doubts, but all Eoghan knew was that no matter how much he may regret this later, right now he was being welcomed into Brendan's bed, and the death of Eoghan's sister was only evidence of how short life is.

With this thought in mind, he lay back, spreading his legs for Brendan, who was now holding a pot of Vaseline with a meaningful look. Brendan gave an odd grin as he dipped his fingers in the pot, on anybody else Eoghan would have almost called the expression bashful.

He closed his eyes, hearing Brendan's purr of satisfaction as cool fingers (cool by the Vaseline, Eoghan's mind supplied) drifted along his cock, evoking a quick exhale from Eoghan.

"Mmm, feels nice." Eoghan murmured, sinking further back into the pillows. He raised his legs so his feet were flat on the mattress, allowing Brendan better access with that lubricant. He didn't have long to wait, Brendan immediately began probing between his buttocks with a finger, sliding the digit up inside him.

"Didn't think you'd be so tight," Brendan muttered, although he sounded pleased. Eoghan didn't dignify that comment with a response, although a side of him (but not one that he as willing to acknowledge) inwardly preened that his childhood crush was enjoying his body. He ground his hips down no the finger as Brendan brushed over his prostate, ignoring Brendan's chuckle as he did so. There was something so shameful about this, so sinful but he had to be honest that having Ste and Cheryl catching them earlier had turned him on. Just a little.

Brendan was slowly loosening him up by flexing his finger inside him, then allowing it to slip out and moistening another finger with the viscous substance. It was no secret that Eoghan was bi, so regardless of how tight he was, he'd had sex with men before so didn't need any special treatment. But even with that in mind, it felt good to lie back there, as Brendan slowly fingered him, Brendan seeming uncharacteristically selfless as he gently massaged the tight muscles, each new twist or flex of his fingers making Eoghan moan and writhe in pleasure, arching his back in a feline fashion, seeking out Brendan's masterful fingers, wanting more, wanting it deeper.

Lovely as it was to feel Brendan's attention solely on him, to feel how careful Brendan could be, this was like giving vegan food to a lion, he needed more, he needed Brendan to fuck him now.

When Brendan pulled his finger out from Eoghan's hole, Eoghan hitched himself up higher on the bed by his elbows, trying not top stare as Brendan touched himself, smoothing Vaseline along his cock. The thought that soon, that thick, hard length would be inside him was enough to make Eoghan's toes curl in anticipation. His eyes met Brendan's and he knew the pleasure he'd felt moments before, when Brendan had been paying so much attention to his prostate, meant his eyes were heavy-lidded with arousal, pupils most likely dilated. Brendan's certainly were.

He gave Brendan a challenging look, and then tossed his head back against the pillows, exposing his throat. Brendan's growl, of arousal as he practically leapt upon Eoghan would have struck fear into some men's hearts, but not Eoghan's. He just smiled and braced himself for the ride.

When the man pounced on Eoghan, the air momentarily was knocked from his lungs, he gasped, clutching Brendan by the shoulders, holding on tight. He loved this, loved the feeling of a man, chest hair and stubble, sweat and tobacco, everything that felt so different from the soft femininity that he'd consoled himself with, agreeable women who could never hold a candle to the fiery Brendan Brady. Brendan wasted no more time, guiding his cock between the cheeks to push in, holding onto Eoghan with one hand.

Eoghan tried to relax, it had been too long since he'd had an encounter like this, but oh god, it felt so right! Brendan gave a little huff of relief when he was fully in, balls-deep, pressed flush against Eoghan. For some reason, that seemed to strike Brendan as funny; he softly laughed until Eoghan's glare set him straight. Brendan took a moment to get his bearings, then gave a quick stutter of his hips. Almost experimentally. Eoghan's needy whine motivated him though, Brendan withdrew a bit, to slam it back in. Both men gasped.

Eoghan giddily wondered, as Brendan pounded into him with a single-minded determination, whether it was like this for Brendan with other men. Did they scratch at Brendan's back and slide fingers through his chest hair, like Eoghan was doing now, or did they lie there and take it? Brendan seemed to have a fascination with his chest; several times he had to withdraw completely so that he could crane down, planting sloppy, toothy kisses on the flesh, licking clumsily at Eoghan's nipples.

Brendan finished before him, his mouth falling into an "O" and his hands tightening, thrusts becoming deep stabs that rocked Eoghan to his core. As Brendan groaned aloud, fucking Eoghan harder into the mattress until his cock was milked of the seed, it only took his hand to curl around Eoghan's dick before the other man was following, eyes closing in ecstasy as he arched up, incoherent moans spilling from his lips. His eyes were shut but he didn't open them as he felt Brendan pull out, already fatigue was washing over him and he let it, exhausted but sated. He was just aware of Brendan rolling over to lie beside him, and that's when he lost consciousness.


	2. Brendan VS Doug

**Title: I Like It Rough**

**Author: BipolarMolar**

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to the franchise.**

**This chapter is set during the episode where Doug wore a wire and was trying to get Brendan to say something incriminating. Dubcon. Obviously, this isn't canon. All these chapters are read as standalone pieces, as they are all set in different episodes.**

**Please enjoy and review to let me know if you liked it! **

**0o0o0o**

**You keep tellin' me lies  
But to your surprise  
Look, I hope you're happy  
Since you're caught out there**

**I hate you so much right now  
I hate you so much right now  
I hate you so much right now  
Ahh...**

**I Hate You So Much Right Now, Kelis.**

**0o0o0o**

He was getting nothing. Doug was stuck-with a wire- trying to trap Brendan in his office, into making a mistake, admitting to a crime. Anything to get him behind bars. And there was no way Brendan would trust him…no way…

So Doug kissed him. The panic that swept over him like a tide as he craned up, pressing his lips to those of the man's, made him falter, made him sway on his feet and he stumbled backwards, grabbing hold of the desk that he could feel beneath him, for balance.

The expression on Brendan Brady's face was terrifying, a face like thunder with the heavy dark brows drawn in a tight frown over narrowed eyes and a sneer of disgust. Doug was already backing away, shaking his head hurriedly- why the _hell_ had he kissed him? What did he think it'd _achieve? _Brendan's eyes were gleaming dangerously now as he stalked Doug further into the room and Doug could feel his heart begin to race, his palms sweating in his anxiety. He wiped them across his trouser legs and a new feeling welled up as the stretch of his muscles tugged the wire at his chest, and his hands flew to his throat in a defensive motion, hoping desperately that the tape wouldn't come off, that the wire wouldn't fall to the ground. He _couldn't_ be caught; he couldn't _allow_ himself to be caught. Brady was a dangerous criminal- still hell-bent on worming his way back into Ste's life and surely Brendan would use this against him, if he found out that Doug was tricking him. Ste would hate Doug if he knew of his betrayal, of that, Doug was certain.

His back hit the wall. His eyes met Brendan's. Oh crap. Brendan's eyes were glittering coldly in the dim light. "Why did you o that, Douglas?" His quiet question cut though Doug like a scalpel. That deep, guttural Irish accent of his seemed impossibly strong, like dark velvet, in that moment.

Doug's hands flailed impotently in a hapless attempt at a placating gesture- his mind was reeling under the force of Brendan's gaze, and his instincts were screaming at him to retreat. Brendan moved closer and Doug winced. He was locked in place by that heavy-lidded glare, unable to move.

"Because I- I fancy you…?" Where had that come from? He'd said the first thing to spring to mind, anything to distract Brendan-

"How long?"

What? "Huh?" Doug's face screwed up in confusion.

"How. Long. How long have you…" Brendan now had Doug pressed right up against the wall, bearing down on him, so close their chests touched. "_Wanted_ me?"

"I-I-I don't, uh-" Suddenly, Doug was silenced as Brendan's lips crashed down onto his- all hot lips and sharp teeth, a wet tongue lunging into his mouth, trying to get in. The drag of rough hair on skin as Brendan's moustache and stubble grazed him made him try to pull away- but of course he couldn't move, still sandwiched between Brendan and the wall, both equally unyielding.

His protestations were smothered by Brendan's lips, the rustle of clothing muffled by Brendan's greedy moans as he licked and nipped at Doug's mouth, leaving the man gasping, sagging limply against the wall.

"Douglas," Brendan leant heavily against Doug, clearly affected, his forehead pressed against Doug's, his breath fanning across Doug's face. "I had no idea." Brendan's eyes narrowed, face clouding over in sudden age. "You weren't fucking my Steven because you wanted _me_, were you?"

"Of course not, no! I would never do that, Brendan- Brendan, look, I love Ste!" a hand clamped down on Doug's mouth and he squirmed in panic, clawing ineffectually at Brendan's broad arm.

"If I think you're lying, Douglas…" Brendan didn't need to continue; the threat was perfectly clear. "Steven is nobody's fool, nobody's substitute. Understand?" The hand on Doug's face slackened a little, a little, allowing him a quick nod.

"Good. Now why don't you bend over that table like a good boy?" Brendan purred.

Doug was already shaking his head, but Brendan had only released him from his hold to shove him hard so that he fell against the desk, perfectly bent over it as Brendan had wanted, his hands automatically gripping the edge that was inches from his head. Before he had a chance to react, Brendan was standing behind him, his breath hot on Doug's neck.

"No, Brendan-" Warm hands settled themselves to rest heavily on Doug's shoulders, and he shuddered as an unmistakeable hardness pressed against his clothed rear.

"You wanted this, Douglas." Brendan reminded him, giving a tiny thrust of his hips -foreshadowing of events to come. "You asked for it."

Doug's head was spinning, he had to get out! But he couldn't risk engaging Brady into a fight, revealing the wire. He wished Shawnee was here, _anyone_, Ste, Cheryl, somebody who could –

The sound of a zipper being dragged down, down, down…

The slither of clothing, a slippery shiver then a metallic _click_ as Brendan's belt hit the floor.

Brendan's deep moan as he stroked himself behind Doug, the dry slide of his hand on his cock sounding painful.

The worst part was how Doug's body was reacting to this- to his shock, he felt his dick hardening in his underwear, each moan and gasp Brendan made seemed to resonate in him, making him flush as his erection pushed at his clothing. He straightened a bit, trying to navigate his way out of the cage Brendan's body was making, but Brendan just pushed him down again, a hand worming around Doug's flank to paw at his flies. Doug cringed as Brendan rubbed at his cock through his trousers, the Irishman giving a _hmmm_ of satisfaction as he acknowledged the hardness. Doug just endured it, trying to resist the urge to hump the hand attending to him.

"Steven's my boy, Douglas." Brendan hissed as his fingers pulled at the zip, snaking in to curl around Doug's erection. "My boy. You can't give him what he needs, you're not fit to fuck a man-"

"Shut up, shut up-"Doug's hips gave an involuntary thrust, feeling warm, dry fingers teasing his shaft. Brendan's rumbling laugh behind him made him shiver, belatedly, he realised he was still trying to grind himself against Brendan's palm.

"No, Douglas, you're a boy and so is Steven- but my Steven- he needs a man, you see?" Doug shook his head, feeling Brendan's sure hands pulling his trousers down his hips to bunch around his knees.

"_I'm_ a man." He winced at the clatter of a small bottle being placed on the desk next to his head. Brendan's scornful laugh at his remark stung, but he was used to the man's hostility.

Brendan was pulling Doug's boxers down impatiently, making the elastic screech, the quick hunger of his movements making Doug's hear trace.

"Really, Douglas- you're not." And that was when the Irishman leant down, and licked a line up Doug's thigh.

He shuddered, still clinging to the desk. The edge of the table was biting into his stomach, so he pushed back, and if he spread his legs a little wider, well that wasn't for Brendan's benefit, was it?

One of Brendan's hands grappled for the bottle, taking it out of sight and Doug opened his mouth to speak but promptly shut it again as Brendan's tongue came back, licking at the base of his spine and then down, to probe between his cheeks. At that position, Doug stopped thinking.

Brendan's hands were on Doug's arse, parting the cheeks to allow his tongue better access, licking around the puckered hole, making the younger man squirm in begrudging arousal. Brendan gave himself a moment just to see Doug writhe, and then he thrust his tongue in, hearing Doug's helpless gasp.

Doug was aware only of sensations, of things that shouldn't have felt so good but were…amazing. Sensations- hands gripping the desk feeling coldness on his skin where the shirt had ridden up slightly, feeling hot wetness curl inside him, feel Brendan's stubble grazing his buttocks. He was begging, incoherent, wincing as his entrance was stretched and licked while his cock, hard and dripping, was unattended.

"B-Brendan…"

When Brendan's mouth left him, he bit back a sob, but his ears pricked up at a rustle of foil as Brendan put on a condom behind him. He'd never been penetrated before but his body now felt empty in a way that was unfamiliar, needing to be filled in the absence of that talented tongue. He need his, had to have Brendan fuck him, right here, tight now. Anything else would be torture.

Brendan's breathy gaps behind him told him that the man had just slicked his cock up with lube; this was proved correct as slightly sticky fingers parted his arsecheeks, and the Brendan was easing himself in.

The head of Brendan's cock, butting at his virgin orifice was large, far larger than the tongue that had violated him mere moments before and he took in a deep breath, a sound that was overwhelmed by Brendan's grunt as he slowly breached the hole. Doug groaned ad his backside began to ache, feeling the muscles stretch, grateful for the slick sheen of lubricant coating Brenda's cock. Once Brendan was fully seated inside him, both men gasped in relief. It felt so unfamiliar, Doug wondered how sate could be so accustomed to a man entering him, he felt too_ full_, too _helpless_. But then Brendan started to move and his cock twitched, the friction of Brendan's member against his internal walls painful but _so_ satisfying.

Brendan exhaled as he withdrew, roughly grabbing at Doug's hips to angle his body accordingly. The new position forced Doug's face closer to the desk; he had to crane his face up to stop the blood rushing to his head. With his hands still white-knuckled on the edge of the desk, he must have looked ridiculous.

Brendan set up a hard, angry rhythm, deep thrusts that made Doug cry out, either in pain or pleasure as his prostate was hammered on mercilessly, with alarming accuracy. His cock was aching, he felt it would explode and tears were slipping down his face as he bucked up to meet Brendan's punishing thrusts.

"Touch me, please, Brendan…" But Brendan wouldn't, fucking him hard as Doug shuddered beneath him, until Brendan's' hips were snapping forward, faster, his moaning louder-

Doug could feel the heat building in his belly, his erection being dragged across the smooth surface of the desk as Brendan rutted against him, he was so close-

"Brendan!" He slumped down, arms aching from his shoulder to his fingertips as they released their death grip, feeling the hot wetness of his cum spurt out of him, to pool on the desk, ropes of it clinging to his belly.

Brendan's hands were hurting him now, gripping his hips so hard as the man gave a final feral grunt, giving one quick thrust before he came, lurching onto Doug, crushing him under his weight as Brendan's fluid filled him.

Doug realised he was panting, as Brendan pulled back, his cock being pulled from Doug in a way that made the younger man wince. He was still spread over the desk, limbs splayed, wide-eyed when Brendan pulled on trousers, a belt, throwing a shirt on. Doug looked over his shoulder as Brendan, once again impeccable, chucked a packet of wet wipes to him before striding to the door.

"Get yourself- and that desk- cleaned up. Then get out of my sight." And without another word, Brendan was gone.


	3. Ste VS Doug

**Title: I Like It Rough**

**Author: BipolarMolar **

**Disclaimer: I don't own HO or make money from it.**

**This chapter is Stug-as you've never seen it! I'll always have a special place in my heart for Stug, but when I wrote this, it turned out much darker than I originally intended. Anyway, here you are- inspired by the musical styling of Ok Go, this chapter is set during the episode where Ste took out his violent temper on Doug, shoving him, while in Carter and Hay. All the chapters are unrelated, remember, although they do contain references to previous episodes.**

**0o0o0o**

_**Cause I could go on for days**_

_**Just crazy about it, oh**_

_**You're so respectable**_

_**Mmm but I'm an animal**_

_**It's like a skydive**_

_**I'm gettin' high**_

_**The kinda thrill that could just kill ya**_

_**It's like I'm eye-to-eye**_

_**Wild-eyed, oooooh**_

_**I don't know what to tell ya,**_

_**There's just this thing about 'cha**_

_**WTF, Ok Go.**_

_**0o0o0o**_

Doug had felt stupid with irritation, tongue-tied and almost completely incoherent, everything from Ste's mother coming to Brendan being a constant presence that could snatch Ste away at any moment, had made him just feel so helpless, so useless that he'd shouted at Ste. Over his name of all things. And then Ste had…

the look in his eyes as he'd lunged…

…shoved Doug, shoved him hard so that he fell against the wall, hearing clatters and bangs as his momentum had caused food and bottles to tumble to the ground. That one second, Doug had been helpless. A victim. At the mercy of _Ste_, sweet, _Panini-making_, Ste Hay.

It had hurt.

Because they'd always had an equal relationship, Doug prided himself on that. He'd been flying blind, having a relationship with a man, completely unfamiliar, and one of the first things he'd realised was how the dynamic was totally different to what he was used to. Waking up in the morning next to Ste, they'd both get up; shave together, side-by-side, eyes meeting in the bathroom mirror. Ste didn't expect Doug to open a door for him or pull a chair out. He hadn't had to put his arm around Ste when they were passing rough pubs and dark alleyways late at night. But he'd done it anyway. He'd felt so pleased to be able to give Ste affection, love, all the things denied of him for too long. Letting him know he was safe and loved. But now, Ste had done this.

Doug didn't know what to do.

The guilt that boiled away in his gut as he made arrangements behind Ste's back to try and shop Brendan to the police was getting no easier to hold onto. Like a hot meal, it burned down his throat to ache in his belly, his imagination far too active in making him picture the look on Ste's face if he'd find out. Doug couldn't_ let_ him find out.

It had been frightening, at first, his mind cruelly rewinding to make him remember Ste violently pushing him, that gorgeous face tight with tension and anger. But Doug knew he was selfish when a part of him revelled in seeing Ste wring his hands anxiously, fawning over Doug with apologetic eyes and whispered promises. That time, that glorious time, their relationship hadn't been marred by Brendan's menacing presence- Doug had had Ste's eyes on his, and his lips on his, and Doug's name _on_ those lips…and he'd developed a taste for it.

It was too easy to forget the fear and just focus on the feelings. One evening, they were preparing to close up shop, and all Doug could think about was Ste. As he washed dished and cutlery, he found his gaze slipping a few inches to the right, at Ste's own capable hands, remembering how they'd felt on his face. Unfortunately, Ste still seemed to be in shock at losing his temper, terrified that his old violent side would show, and apart from when Doug had walked in to find Brendan comforting Ste (Doug's hand tightened on the knife and he gasped as a bead of blood welled up from the wound), there had been no real sign of Ste coming to terms with it.

"Are you ok?" Ste's concerned, if not slightly panicky, voice cut through Doug's thoughts. He was getting a bit sick of Ste treating him like he was made of glass, he'd dealt drugs for heaven's sake, and he could take care of himself!

"I'm fine, Ste," He ran his hand under the tap and saw the blood wash off. "See? Fine."  
"Let me see." Ste grabbed Doug's hand without thinking, and then released it immediately. Doug frowned in confusion, offering his hand again.

"What, Ste?" But Ste just shook his head and turned away. Doug counted to five, hearing Ste's shaky breathing, but he could feel his nerves beginning to fray. "Look, Ste," Ste's back was still turned, hands covering his face so Doug directed his gaze at the toaster. "Ste, I know you're not going to hurt me, you don't have to-" That got a response.

Ste whirled around, his face now blotchy and eyes wet with tears. "Yeah, but that's the thing- Doug, you don't know! "Ste was warming to his theme now. "You don't know if I'd hurt you and- and I don't know! I would have said, a few weeks ago, that I'd sooner shoot me own head off than raise a hand to you, but I did, oh,_ Doug_, I _did_…."

Doug watched on, growing more and more uncomfortable as Ste dissolved into incoherency and tears. "I did, Doug, I'm so, I'm so sorry, I never meant, I never would have-it's all, all my fault…"

Doug awkwardly patted Ste on the back as Ste sobbed, looking up at the tear-stained face and hating how useless he felt right now. "Hey, look, I knew you didn't mean it, Ste, it's ok, yeah?" He tried to smile but it didn't feel natural so he let the muscles relax. "No harm, no foul-" It was getting easier to lull himself into this role, protector, soothing his boyfriend, with a hand on his arm and another on his back, gently guiding Ste out of that dark place. But then Ste said something that just…

"I'm just like, just like _Brendan_!" And Ste let out a sob, his hands clinging to Doug's collar. Doug felt the heat rise up his face and heard his own breath huff in irritation, but he had no idea how he looked as he heard Ste's words, he only had Ste's reaction to look at. And something about Doug's expression must have changed, because Ste was looking at him differently, like _Doug_ was different, like Ste just _couldn't_ figure him out, like he couldn't believe Doug could act in such a way. Pretty much how Doug had felt when Ste had hurt him…

"**You are**_** nothing **_**like Brendan**." Every word seemed so significant, as if it carried the weight of the world's secrets in the syllables, the words were dragged from his lips and they sounded too serious, like someone much older was saying them, someone who'd gone to hell and back…

Ste was shaking his head again although he'd relinquished his grip on Doug's shirt and now just stood all jutting long limbs and shame-faced denial. Doug inhaled sharply, slamming his hand down the counter with a slap that made Ste jump. It only took the thought that when Brendan had slammed his hand down, it had been on Ste's skin that made Doug's jaw clench and his eyes narrow in anger, and his lips capture Ste's.

His hands came up to grab roughly at Ste's shoulders, pulling him close as his lips and tongue pawed at Ste's mouth. Ste was squirming, half giving into the kiss and half pulling away, and perhaps in any other situation, Doug would have immediately let him run away to lick his wounds, giving him as much time and space and comfort as he needed. But it wasn't about what Ste wanted. It was about what Doug wanted. Too many days of seeing Brendan watch Ste from his balcony, too many nights of kissing him gently and knowing, as he pushed himself inside Ste, feeling the man's walls clench around him, that Brendan had been there first and Brendan had done it _better_.

He realised that Ste was a drug, and Doug was becoming addicted, craving the man, needing his attention, lapping it up like an eager child. And wasn't that just the saddest thing?

Ste was letting him kiss and lick into his mouth, even tentatively touching his own tongue to Doug's, but that wasn't enough. Doug quickly shoved a hand down to his waist where he tugged at his flies, feeling the rumble as the metal teeth parted and taking his half-hard dick in hand. Ste made a muffled "Oh" of surprise, but Doug ignored that, using his hand to now unfasten Ste's own trousers. When he felt Ste's prick twitch with interest as it flopped into his hand, he smiled grimly in triumph- Ste wanted this, confused as he was. He hurriedly brought his hand to his face, licking his palm so that when he ran it along Ste's member again, the lubrication made it easier, made Ste gasp and push into his fist. Doug pumped Ste's shaft in relentless strokes, until he judged him to be hard enough to really want this.

Doug still felt like he was on autopilot, working through the motions to release tension, chemicals, that was all. He'd always felt sex was more about making love, especially with Ste, the connection, the trust, but now…now it was about taking what was rightfully his, using Ste, using his body to _fee_l. Without anymore waiting, he seized Ste's wrist, feeling the delicate framework of bones press against his fingers as he pulled Ste along, not the backroom. When Doug had shut the door firmly behind them, he paused for a moment, breathing heavily either from arousal or residual anger. When he looked up, Ste was watching him with confused, lust-filled eyes, his flies still open as he slumped against the wall in the cramped room, not seeming to know what was going on. Doug turned away to put a condom on, and it was when the rustle of the foil was the only sound to break the silence, that Ste chose to speak.

"Doug, I don't think-"

"Good, so just _don'_t think, Ste," Doug's hands were shaking as he eased the condom on. As he stood there, trying to prepare his mind for this, he felt something cool nudge his palm and he accepted the bottle of lubricant Ste had just offered him, feeling a little braver.

"How do you want me?" Ste had always been perceptive, it was one of the things Doug admired so much about him, and the man had seemed to sense what Doug needed, that he needed this to reassure him of what they had, or perhaps the stress of owning a small-town delicatessen was making him reel. Doug took deep breath.

"Turn to face the wall, put your hands on it." Ste immediately did so, glancing over his shoulder at Doug. The trust in his eyes, the way he complied to Doug's worrying change of mood suddenly struck Douglas, a pang in his heart as he realised just how much he loved Ste. He couldn't let Ste go, to run back to Brendan.

Doug let lubricant drizzle onto his fingers, thinking _perhaps I'm worse than Brendan_.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Ste."_ But Brendan was willing to stay away from Ste if he thought that was best._

"I know, Doug."

_And I'm staying with Ste even though I know he'll never truly love me._

Doug tried to switch off his brain, as he gently rubbed his knuckles down Ste's spine, to pause at the base of it, pausing…

"Please, Doug. I need you." Doug couldn't wait anymore, hearing that Ste needed him, him, Douglas Carter was enough, in this one time, Brendan was absent, was nothing whatsoever, it was just Ste and Doug, two men in love-

He slipped a finger inside Ste's entrance, feeling the warm tightness press around the digit. Doug was soon able to add another finger, and he moved them in tandem, scissoring them apart to stretch the muscle, and then-

"Brendan!" If Ste hadn't been facing the wall, Doug might have panicked, thinking that Brendan had just stepped into the room and he hadn't noticed. Or perhaps he would have thought that if Ste hadn't moaned out the name, pushing back on Doug's fingers wantonly, pleasure painting his features a flushed pink.

Time seemed to stand still. Doug couldn't remember feeling more awkward than now, more inadequate and idiotic, with his fingers up his boyfriend as said boyfriend moaned out the ex's name. After a few seconds, Ste seemed to wonder why Doug wasn't continuing to finger him, and then realise his mistake, for Ste tried to meet Doug's eyes over his shoulder, apologies spilling over his lips…

"I'm sorry, Doug, I didn't mean that, I forgot, I mean-"

"It's fine, Ste," Doug said for the second time that day. "It's fine." But it wasn't. It really_ really_ wasn't. How was it supposed to be fine when Doug had just had his own suspicions confirmed? That Ste would always want Brendan, that every time Doug was buried inside him, coaxing orgasms lovingly from the man, that Ste was thinking of Brendan? Doug pulled his fingers from Ste harshly, hearing Ste hiss and not really caring. It didn't matter anyway, Ste was open enough. Probably thinking about how_ Brendan _would give it to him good, but-

"Are we, Doug, are you ok?" Ste's careful tones ripped through Doug like a chainsaw. It physically pained him to answer him.

"You know me, Ste. I'm always ok." And he firmly grabbed Ste's hips, to help it as he guided his cock inside. There was a satisfaction to hearing Ste moan in pain, and then hear that sound sweeten wonderfully as Doug got deeper inside until they were firmly joined, both gasping at the connection.

He'd never felt so physically close to Ste, but so mentally separated from him.

Doug could almost hear hyperboles in his head, staring at warm tanned flesh in front of him with rose-coloured glasses, as he revelled in the warmth and tightness, the sensations, many many sensations. But it only took a moment for him to remember his anger, and how he'd wished it had been his own name on Ste's lips, before he began to let that anger control him, roughly pounding into Ste, until the man's arms were buckling and his moans were more regular.

"Doug, what-uh, wh-"

Doug got as close as he could, pressing Ste to the wall until Ste was whimpering in need as Doug's prick filled him completely. Doug's mouth was on the back of Ste's neck when he whispered "Say his name. I kn0w you want to."

"Brendan," Ste sobbed, gasping in pleasure as his prostate was abused by the head of Doug's cock, again and again. "Brendan, Brendan, please, oh, mm, oh _Brendan…!_"

"Ste, Ste, Ste, fuck…" Doug legs were beginning to ache now form standing for so long and he hurried, fucking the man into the wall until he came into that hot, tight hole, holding Ste so hard he feared he'd break him. Ste followed soon after, pawing uselessly at the wall as he pushed back against Doug, climaxing with an endearing helplessness as his cum painted the wall.

As soon as he was able, Doug withdrew, straightening his clothes as best as eh could, throwing the condom in the bin. He deliberately didn't look at Ste. It was only when he heard a gentle "Doug?" and looked around to see Ste still standing there, now leaning heavily against the wall and looking absolutely drained, that he felt his heart ache, and he had to look away.

"I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have done that." Ste was looking so small and vulnerable at that moment, that Doug felt compelled to approach him, gently kissing him on his forehead.

"No, Ste," he said. "What you shouldn't have done, is agree to date me." He quickly left the room as Ste's face collapsed in horror.

He couldn't let Ste see him cry.


	4. Brendan VS John Paul

Title: I Like It Rough

Author: BipolarMolar

Disclaimer: Make no money from this.

I surprised myself with this! This is Brendan Brady/ John Paul McQueen, set during the episode where Brendan met JP in Dublin, and they did da nasty. Implied past Stendan and McDean.

I apologise for any typos or formatting problems but I typed this up on my mobile. So. Hope you enjoy.

0o0o0o

"I'm not in love but

I'm going to fuck you 'til

Somebody better comes along"- User Friendly, Marilyn Manson

0o0o0o

Brendan had felt drained. The life washed out of him. Walking away from Steven, seeing his face fall slack from the pain of thinking that Brendan had rejected him...he still grimaced at the memory. At least when he had been in the village, that twisting, stabbing pain had been sharp and real, reminding him that he was denying himself all he wanted for the right reasons, to give Steven a better life. But now, sitting in a warm pub, with teeth gritted against the bustling noise and roaring fire, (he didn't deserve the comfort) those agonising memories were just distant dreams.

The lump in his throat and the ache in his stomach hadn't left completely, although the pain had eased somewhat when he got talking to John Paul. Seeing that man as broken and alone as he felt...it had kicked some spirit into Brendan, he felt a little less cold. He relished the banter, hearing the weight on words, neither could trust the other and he realised something...

Brendan Brady didn't want to be alone in Dublin that night.

It helped that he knew this man was gay. No silly display of trading glances and meaningful measures of the space between them- he could cut the act and just get on with the real show. Taking what they both wanted.

Brendan had always found it hard to express affection but that wasn't important right now. He just needed to feel a warm body under his, feel fingers through his hair and a hot mouth to kiss. Come in a tight hole. When he let his voice dip into a seductive murmur, seated across the table from the mysterious John Paul, and when he let his eyes travel appreciatively over the young face, something primal and hungry inside him purred in approval at the flush spreading across John Paul's cheeks.

Brendan had asked him if he'd wanted to go back to his hotel room for more drinks. The line had sounded flat and forced but an immediate nod was John Paul's response. The walk there had been mercifully short.

With his door now open in front of him and John Paul behind him, Brendan turned around and shoved him into the room, slamming the door shut.

When he was in the room himself, his impatience flared as John Paul muttered "I don't do this often- meeting men in pubs-"

He was quickly silenced by a kiss.

Brendan knew his teeth were biting, his tongue too eager, but he didn't care. This was all just about fucking the memories away, fucking into receptive warmth, connecting with someone to take the dull, cold ache away.

He roughly pushed John Paul onto the bed, then followed him, feeling the mattress rock like a rickety boat.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said without preamble. "Hard." There wasn't much his companion could say to that, so Brendan concertrated on removing his clothes, feeling cleaner and freer when he was finally naked.

When he was poised over John Paul's naked body, he couldn't help the swell of disappointment. The man was a poor substitute for Steven. His face was good-looking in an average sort of way, but the plainly appealing features weren't enoug for him. Kissing frantic lips that weren't the smiling curve of Steven's own pout, seeing faded eyes that lacked the long, dark lashes that would drive Brendan insane. The man wasn't enough. And Brendan sensed he wasn't enough for John Paul either.

As he flipped John Paul onto his front, it became easier to accept the lie. The hair colour was wrong, but it was soft and short, and Brendan closed his eyes, feeling sturdy skin, a warm back beneath his fingers- it could almost be Steven, like this.

He wanted to take his time- his chances of striking out with a man like this was a one-off, but he rushed this. Deep down, he knew(as he forced lube-slicked fingers inside the tight hole, ignoring John Paul's shaky breathing) that John Paul didn't deserve this. Brendan's frustration, his impatience. But he couldn't help hurting him, twisting and scissoring his fingers too hard, too quickly, scratching his fingernails in a sharp rake down John Paul's back. He tried to pretend that this was a rent boy, disposable and money-hungry...because then he'd owe him nothing. Brendan just wanted to fuck him hard and forget about it, but he had to at least make John Paul like it.

"So- here's the deal," Brendan muttered against skin, driving his fingers deeper inside. "I'll think of my...fantasy, while you think of Craig-on-the-bus...what happens in Dublin stays in Dublin."

"Fine." Huh. Brendan liked that careless attitude. He didn't waste any more time.

He was to finally plunge into the man, groaning in relief at the connection. Fuck, he'd missed this! He couldn't remember the last time he'd fucked a man...had it been Walker? The thought was an icy droplet of water trickling down his chest. No, it had been Eoghan. Just another man whose life he had recked. He'd beaten Steven, his drugs had killed Walker's brother, he'd bullied Eoghan, killed, cheated, lied...how many more lives was he going to ruin before life just clicked together like jigsaw pieces, easy? Brendan pressed desperate kisses onto John Paul's skin and thought I'm getting old.

At some point, he gripped John Paul's thighs, bringing him onto his knees so Brendan could thrust into him more forcefully, and slide a sweaty, lube-slicked hand underneath him to grab his cock. He moaned, hardly believing that he could be turned on by stimulating someone else. With what his father said, what his religion said- homosexuality was wrong. But the feeling of this hard body under his, and the warm weight of the man's balls against his palm, and the deep moans so different from a woman's breathy calls, were all perfect.

He distantly became aware of John Paul moaning, a name- "Craig! craig...oh... please..."and then it was alright, this little pact they'd made allowing him to bellow "Steven!" as he emptied his load, legs trembling from the flood of feeling. John Paul gave a broken sob and tensed, and Brendan knew from the hot stickiness in his hand that John Paul had come too. Almost immediately, he withdrew, feeling hot shame like needles in his skin- and hating it. He could barely meet John Paul's eyes as he threw on a pair of trousers, the unbuckled belt slapping against his hips, too loud in the silence. John Paul seemed to lost in his own thoughts, still sitting in Brendan's bed like he belonged there.

There was a knock on the door. It wasn't a maid, as Brendan had assumed. Brendan looked into Steven's bright, beautiful eyes and yes, the shame was back.


	5. Brendan VS Joel

**Title: I Like It Rough**

**Author: BipolarMolar**

**Disclaimer: I make no money from this.**

"_**Anything you can do, **_

_**I can do better**_

_**I can do anything**_

_**Better than you."**_

_**Annie Get Your Gun. **_

"Brendan?" Joel called as he let himself into the flat. He shivered as a chill ran through him, firmly shutting the front door against the cold evening. "Where are you?"

"Upstairs." Joel winced at the cry, following it to Brendan's bedroom. It was with reluctance that he pushed open the door- normally, he'd knock, but Brendan had told him where he was so he reckoned it would be ok.

Letting himself in, his eyes immediately zeroed in to where Brendan lay in bed. A collection of beer bottles rested on the bedside table, and if Brendan's bare chest, with the dark duvet spread over him was anything to go by, he was naked.

Brendan glanced at Joel in an unbothered way, rather like a drowsy lion regarding a rambunctious cub, on the African plain. Joel looked back uncertainly, and Brendan let his head flop back onto the mountain of pillows behind him, now staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"Having an early night?" Joel said awkwardly, smoothing out his t-shirt in a self-conscious gesture. Brendan shrugged, beckoning lazily without even bothering to meet his gaze, so Joel made his way closer, to hesitantly perch on the end of the bed.

"What do you need, Joel?" Joel frowned, Brendan's voice seemed lighter somehow, less intimidating than usual. Come to think of it, there was a distinct slur to his speech, as if his lips were numb. Joel remembered the beer bottles and understood.

A tipsy Brendan was better than a sober Brendan. Probably.

"I – it's Theresa. She said I'm no good…"

"Good? Who wants to be good?" Brendan frowned, reaching across to the beside table to retrieve a beer and a bottle opener. Joel watched as Brendan squinted at the bottle, opening it and then handing it to Joel. Yes, tipsy Brendan was definitely better than sober Brendan. Needing some Dutch courage, Joel took a hasty swig before nodding, eyes streaming a bit. "Not good. In- in bed."

"Ohhh…" Somehow, Brendan managed to convey far too much meaning in that monosyllabic sentence. If it could be called a sentence. "Oh" may as well have been "Aha!" or _"Well…"_ or _"This is an interesting development."_ Or even, as Brendan smirked at Joel, it may have been _"I can't say I'm surprised, Joel."_

Brendan got himself a beer, turning to the table. As the duvet slipped a little, showing a sliver of bare hip, Joel's suspicions that his boss was naked in bed seemed far more likely.

"I just- uh…" Joel's mind went unhelpfully blank as Brendan took a hearty swig, focusing on Joel with narrowed, if not bloodshot, eyes.

"Go on."

"I was, I was thinking, um, Brendan, that you've had girls before-"

And then had two kids that he never saw- to show for it, Joel thought.

"Basically, Brendan, I thought you could just…give me some tips on how to- make her…happy. I mean, I can _do_ it, but-"

"I don't doubt it." A sardonic life of an eyebrow embellished the sentence, but apart from that, Brendan was being strangely nice. Placid- serene. Clearly, he needed to try Chez Chez's goods more often, he was much better for it.

"So…you fuck but you don't do it well- or not how Blondie wants it."

"Her name's Theresa, Brendan."

"Yeah, yeah," Brendan waved a hand, like swatting flies. "You want some pointers. Ok." Brendan lay back, still elevated by the cushions and his hands now interlinked beneath his head. "I'm that mouthy little McQueen you're so fond of and you're you. Wow me."

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Joel's mouth moved silently, mouthing _Wow me_ in confusion. "You mean, impress you?"

"Mm hmm," Brendan stretched lazily, neck making an ominous clicking noise that he ignored. "Wow me. Impress me. Make me, a blonde girl saddled with a young 'un, that you, Foxy Junior, are the best thing the Scots have given us since the cure for scurvy and Robbie Coltrane. Make me want to flick my extensions sexily, and open my legs. Come on, Don Juan. Sell yourself."

Joel wrinkled his brow, but Brendan's words made sense. Well, except all that Brendan Brady _weirdness_ about scurvy and hair extensions. He could practise his "pull" and Brendan could tell him where he was going wrong.

"Norm-normally I'd get close, and I don't know, tell her she looked good."

"Good. Women love compliments, they lap 'em up Go on, turn my heart to goo, oh Foxy one." Brendan licked the lip of his beer bottle in a distracted sort of way.

"Um, ok. Ahem," Joel cleared his throat, straightened up. The bed creaked under his weight but he paid it no attention, looking into Brendan's sharp eyes with anxiety, trying to imagine Theresa's sparkling, baby-blue gaze.

"You, er, Theresa. You look really pretty."

Brendan was shaking his head like a wet dog before Joel had even finished. "No, kid, girls don't do pretty. Well, not the ones that wanna sleep with you. Pretty is your kid cousin in her princess costume. Pretty isn't sexy. Pretty doesn't get the girls..."

"So what _do_ I say?" Joel asked, irritated now. Brendan was helpful in saying what _not_ to do, but when it came to adding constructive criticism, well, Joel might just have to go it alone… "Make some comment about…uh, her eyes or lips or something. Don't say anything overtly sexual, like her rack. Don't be afraid to lower your voice, makes it seem more intimate." Brendan's eyes were very blue, Joel noticed, in the soft light. He took another sip of beer.

"And don't worry about hitting the purple prose. She's young, she'll love it. If you get stuck, imagine you're saying it in my voice, might help."

Joel tried to do as he said. He pictured Brendan, his crucifix necklace glinting in the shadowy Chez Chez, immaculate in a smart casual suit, eyeing up a lady over a bottle of beer. That heavy-lidded way he saw the world, stripping everything bare of its fripperies and facades until all that remained was what Brendan had, what Brendan wanted and what Brendan- inevitably- was going to take for himself. That smooth Irish accent that pulled at words in a lazy elastic stretch was now in his mind, memories of Brendan's slow unbothered speech in Joel's mind.

It was easy to say "You look beautiful, Theresa. I love how you look right now." And lean in close, until all that he saw was shining blue and dark lashes bowing modestly.

"Good," Brendan's dry whisper slid over his lips like crisp leaves blowing across gravel. "I accept your compliment and am appropriately… titillated by it. What do you do next?"

"Kiss her." Joel told him. "If the time's right."

"So," Brendan's heavy –lidded eyes were catlike slits, eyeing Joel with a quiet intelligence. "Kiss me."

Had he heard him right? Joel swallowed, staring back at Brendan, trying to fight the urge to look away. The sustained eye contact felt too much like a challenge. And Joel knew from experiences the people who the gauntlet down to Brendan Brady always regretted it.

"I can't _kiss_ you, Brendan." He said, forcing a smile on his face to lighten the mood. His facial muscles didn't seem to want to co-operate; it was a physical effort to grin light-heartedly.

"Sure you can." Brendan leant forward, until his face was inches, centimetres from Joel's own countenance. So close, Joel could pick out each grain of stubble, the exact shade of his eyes, could smell the sour scent of beer on his breath. Joel looked into eyes that were gleaming with dark amusement, and then down at flushed lips, parted in a tricky smile, quivering slightly. "How else," Brendan whispered. "Will you know you're doing it right?"

So Joel steeled himself. Leant in. Awkwardly. Bumped noses. Brendan's hard jaw caught Joel's cheekbone and he bit back a cry of pain, angling his face so his lips hit Brendan's. He realised he wasn't moving, neither of them were, lips just glued, dry, warm. Unrepsonsive. He couldn't help but notice how wrong it felt, to have such a strong hard mouth, dry, not glossed with lipstick, pressed against his own mouth. How strange it was to feel the hair of the man's moustache tickling his face. He drew back.

"Well… that wasn't very good." Brendan crossed his arms, giving Joel a severe look, a bit unfocused due to his eager consumption of the alcohol, but nonetheless a prickling and uncomfortable stare.

"What you're doing wrong," Brendan's voice seemed slower, dulled by the drink, calmer, less threatening. It took him a lot of concentration in this state to order his thoughts. "You're not being passionate enough. Mm. Not being sensual. Breathe her in, nuzzle her neck, and stroke her hair. Anticipation, kid, is the key. And surprise- you see you didn't surprise her-mmfh!" Brendan's criticism was interrupted by Joel suddenly capturing his lips in a hard kiss.

Joel wasn't really thinking but a very basic part of him that was childish and petty, was secretly pleased when he managed to shock Brendan, pulling him into that spontaneous kiss. It wasn't a sophisticated kiss, all teeth and tongue, Joel almost gagged as Brenda's tongue lunged into his mouth, but as they both drew back, saliva on their lips, panting from exertion, Joel saw the flush to Brendan's face and the dilation of his pupils and felt quite smug.

He took a swig of beer. "Made you a bit hot under the collar, there, Brendan. Didn't I?"

Brendan was already beginning to regain his composure, so easily answered with "You'd get hot under the collar if you felt like a dog was kissing you. You do know you're not supposed to try and swallow the person's tongue like that? Y'know, when the kiss ends, you're not supposed to try and take their tongue with you."

Joel laughed in a carefree way, appreciating how the usual bite from Brendan's words was absent. "This isn't about what you want, is it? It's about what Theresa wants."

Brendan grumbled good-naturedly, offering another bottle to Joel. Joel laughed, taking a swig but the look on Brendan's face ceased his amusement. Brendan was watching him in a speculative way, like an animal watching an insect, knowing it could fell the creature with one paw, but watching it anyway. Finding entertainment in something so hopelessly inferior. Joel shivered, and he couldn't help but notice how Brendan's eyes followed the motion, then lingering on where his t-shirt had ridden up a little.

"Scottish Foxy can talk the talk," Brendan drawled. "But can he walk the walk? Let's test your mettle, Foxy Junior."

Joel bristled "Don't call me that!" but Brendan gave a throaty cackle, then made his next move.

Tossed the duvet off himself, took a smug swig from his bottle. Joel momentarily forgot to breathe.

He _wished_ he could have that confidence. How could Brendan just flick the cover off himself? So carelessly. Joel didn't want to look- fuck, why was it so hard to _not_ look? But Brendan sort of shifted, just a stretch of his legs and that movement captured Joel's gaze.

Strangely enough, Brendan, laid bare, did nothing to detract from his power, his presence. The tangle of chest hair, darkening his arms, his legs, the hair curling around his groin, all just gave the impression of something wild. And the tattoos. And that _look_ in his eyes, watching Joel watching him and _not caring_. Joel's gaze had slipped shyly over Brendan's crotch, but with those daring blue eyes staring into his, he felt compelled to look away. And when Brendan spread his legs a fraction more, to enhance the view, Joel swallowed uncomfortably, feeling horribly inadequate at the half-hard cock that was longer than his own, thicker than his own.

"I'd say…" Brendan drawled. "Touch it, but we all know Theresa isn't hiding anything up her skirt."

Joel didn't answer- stupidly, he realised he was still staring at Brendan's penis and he hastened to look away focusing to look at the slightly less intimidating view of Brendan's chest. Even that was intimate; he hated how he noticed Brendan's nipples were hard, as the man leaned over without looking away, to get something from the bedside table next to him.

It was only when Brendan had chucked whatever object he'd retrieved at Joel- and Joel automatically caught it- that he saw what it was.

A bottle of lubricant.

"Uh…" he said, not sure of what else to say.

"We haven't evolved enough for me to get all wet inside for you like ol' Theresa would so…lube up, Joel, you're not going in dry."

"I'm not-" he barely dared to believe it. "I'm not gonna…fuck you?"

Brendan's flat, non-plussed expression reminded Joel of the space between their years, and the lifetime between.

"No, Joel, you're not. There's a- certain type of man I'd let fuck me. And you're not him. Put some of the stuff on your fingers." Seeing Joel's look, he sighed. "Alright, I'll make it easy. Get your right hand and have it faced palm up. Ok, now squeeze out some of the lube onto your palm, with your left hand. Oh for fuck's sake, it's not that bloody hard to unscrew a cap with one hand- good you've done it. Right now, ok," He waited until Joel had thrown the bottle onto the bed with his clean hand, before continuing. "Now…scoop up some of the lube with your left hand so it's on your left index and middle finger. Now wrap those fingers around your fingers on your right hand…"

Following the orders with difficulty, Joel grimaced at the sticky coldness on his fingers. "I know how to put gel on my hand, Brendan."

"Yeah," Brendan grinned. "But you've never fingered yourself, have you, kid? Missing out on one of life's pleasures and you didn't even know it."

"I never thought you'd be into this, Brendan." Joel muttered.

"I'm not a sucker for the pain," Brendan conceded. "But it feels…good. And you know that I am a sucker for _pleasure_, right?"

Joel didn't answer; he'd finished coating his fingers in the gel and was awaiting Brendan's next imperative with some trepidation.

Joel looked at Brendan. Brendan looked back at Joel.

"I'm not sure if we should be doing-"

"Joel, Joel, please. Please, just trust me." Brendan sat up, now intently serious. Joel felt the weight of Brendan's gaze pressing down on him and wondered what it was about this man that had the ability to make him feel like he was a child. "Joel, do you trust me? Hm?"

"Yeah, of course-"

"You know that I want what's best for you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"And what's best for Theresa?"

"Yes-"

"So do it. Do it _now_." Joel didn't think he'd be able to cope if Brendan actually said the words of what he wanted him to do, so without another thought, Joel leant forward with his hand outstretched. To see Brendan so exposed, waiting for him, was staggering. Joel aimed his index finger between Brendan's legs, and after a few embarrassing seconds of trying to get his bearings, he managed to find Brendan's entrance.

"Is there a problem?"

Joel gritted his teeth, and thrust his finger in. he couldn't believe how tight Brendan was, the lube helped considerably, but he could barely move his finger, trapped by the thick ring of muscle. He withdrew it as gently as he could, but Brendan still hissed through his teeth, and Joel hesitated, staring at the shine on his finger, unsure how to continue.

"Brendan…?"

"Ok, Joel, just…" Brendan heaved in a heavy breath, pushing a few sweaty strands of hair off his forehead. "Hang on, just…"

"Are you ok?" Joel hoped the answer would be positive; he had no idea how to comfort Brendan Brady.

"I'm fine, it's just- been a while. Anyway, you can't just stab into me, make it slow…"

Joel tried again, this time pushing past the resistance even as he began to feel the skin press hard around his finger. He persevered, until his digit was buried to the knuckle, and then wiggled it around inside Brendan, until he could move it a little easier. When he withdrew it, he wasn't sure if Brendan's sigh was a sigh of disappointment or a sigh of relief. He hoped it was a sigh of relief because Joel was soon back, now trying to insert two fingers at once. He hadn't realised there were so many sensations for his fingers to pick up, the feeling of hairs against his digits, the wetness of the lube, that was now warmed by Brendan's body. And then the hot tightness again, feeling the thick wall that clenched around his fingers with the steadiness of a heartbeat. He was getting better at this, and now Brendan's hole was reluctantly loosening, it was easier to slide his fingers in and out. Apart from the odd, panting breath, Brendan was remarkably composed- but Joel was hoping he could change that.

"You're doing good, Joel, just try and-uh-_angle_…"

Joel didn't know what Brendan meant, but he tried to comply, angling his fingers differently as he pushed them inside.

"Oh, let _me_ do it, you little eejit," Brendan snapped, snatching Joel's hand up and ramming his finger inside. Joel felt something, a lump or muscle under his fingers, he wasn't sure, and then Brendan _moaned_. A loud, drawn-out sound, full of relief and pleasure…and Joel realised he liked it.

He shook off Brendan's hand, telling him "Let me."

Brendan rode Joel's digits greedily, managing to give Joel a condescending look even as he pleasured himself on his protégé's fingers. "Don't make me _laugh_. You couldn't find a man's prostate if you had a map to guide you."

Joel frowned, bending his fingers at just the right angle and-

"_Uhhhh..._" Brendan moaned, as his prostate was touched once again. Joel had been trying to ignore the fact that this. Brendan's reactions, was making him feel…hot, but now he couldn't ignore how hard he was, how aroused he was right now. Because of this, Joel was inclined to finish this as quickly as possible, make Brendan come, and then get out, so he could take care of himself in the privacy of his room, pretending it was Theresa he was thinking of, not a certain dynamic Irishman, as he worked off the tension.

With this in mind, Joel grabbed the bull by the horns. Or rather, he grabbed Brendan by the cock. It was a strange rite of passage, and made him question himself, not for the first time that night. Did this make him gay? It couldn't, he wasn't really, he was just…experimenting, surely? But as he caught hold of the warm flesh, so like his own but not, Brendan gave a sharp gasp and arched into the action. Between pushing his fingers inside Brendan and roughly tugging at his cock, it wasn't long before Brendan reached his climax. He gave no warning so Joel wasn't prepared for the hot cum spurting into his hand, and Brendan's internal walls clenching hard around his fingers. Joel endured Brendan's orgasm, the moans, the heat and wet fluid staining his hand, and when he judged Brendan to have calmed down enough, he pulled his fingers out, wincing and wiping both hands on the back of his trousers.

Getting to his feet, Joel looked down at Brendan curiously. Part of him was proud at seeing that confident, dangerous man reduced to a trembling mess. But now, all sorts of confused yet filthy thoughts were bearing down on Joel's mind. He could barely look at Brendan without wanting to lean down and kiss him, lick at that exposed neck, that sweating, hairy chest.

"Brendan…?" Joel said questioningly, half-waiting…

"Get out, Joel." Brendan muttered, wiping a hand wearily across his brow.

"But-"

"Just do it, ok? This was a mistake, I shouldn't have…" Ah. Brendan was sobering up swiftly, then.

"You're not, you're not gonna tell Theresa?" Joel's erection throbbed and he winced.

"Not if you leave now." Brendan said, and, with his hands curling into useless fists, Joel left the room, embarrassed, angered and painfully aroused.


End file.
